


And the Voice spoke through them

by Goodbyemyfancy



Category: Boondock Saints (Movies)
Genre: M/M, Masturbation, Orgasm, Sexual Fantasy, Touching, Twincest, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-06
Updated: 2014-02-06
Packaged: 2018-01-11 09:41:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,227
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1171567
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Goodbyemyfancy/pseuds/Goodbyemyfancy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Murphy and Connor come to terms with the Voice of God speaking to them in the jail cell. Sexual fantasies and unresolved desires for one another.</p>
            </blockquote>





	And the Voice spoke through them

It was sometime in the middle of the night when the Voice roared and commanded them to their mission. It was lightning speaking directly into their souls, a jolt and a spark igniting them, searing them to their destiny. Trembling bodies poised taunt, arched towards the ceiling as if pulled to the heavens above.

Was it seconds, minutes, hours? Time passed but did not move. 

With a mighty crash, the Voice ordered them to cleanse the world of evil, to know its face and conquer it with righteousness. 

With a sudden yet powerful intensity, the brothers climaxed hard as one, love and hot warmth and desire and God all caught up in one exquisite moment. Spurting inside the jeans they slept in, the brothers were barely aware of the ejections they had had, in favour of the orgasm that had taken and shaken them to the core of their beings. They were to have each other, and no others in their lives. 

Panting and sweating, hair pressed wet against their foreheads, Murphy and Connor turned to stare at one another. Neither knew what to say, so they simply shared this strange and intimate closeness. When the Voice finally faded, the two were spent, dropping back to their beds facing each other, unspeaking for long minutes. Finally, they reached for their shirts and sat up.  
_________________________________________________

As usual, Murphy had to shift his gaze when Connor was changing his clothes. It was crazy, and Murphy knew it, but he could not control the effect his brother's body had upon him. Staring upon it was like hearing an echo of the Voice in his heart - purity and love and goodness. Connor's body was a testament to the lives he had converted; the scars he wore proudly showed the direct and immediate contact of life upon his flesh. 

His tattoos mirrored Murphy's, and the two had spent long hours drunk on whisky, smoking endless cigarettes while lying on the floor comparing each other's images. Murphy loved running his index finger over Connor's tattoos, mapping out where their inks were identical and where they differed. He was amazed by the softness of Connor's skin, its warmth under his finger where he softly stroked up and down. 

He loved the feel of Connor's neck especially, trailing his fingertip down the jugular vein watching the saint move and breathe under his touch. Connor would sigh and lie back, content with Murph's caresses as he shot back another whisky. Sometimes, Connor's fingers would drift over the cross on Murphy's arm, caressing Murph like a cat, and Murph would feel like he had already reached heaven while still alive on earth. 

"Is it a sin, feeling this way about my own brother?" Murphy asked himself uneasily several times a day. Even before the Voice spoke, Murph had been aware of himself, the changes in his reactions to his brother over time as they grew older and closer to one another. 

The first time Murphy thought about kissing Connor, one rainy night long ago while staggering home late after a night on the town drinking with Rocco, he wanted to run away from himself. 

Murphy knew in his heart it was wrong, this overwhelming desire he had to suddenly stop in the street, grab his brother around the neck and haul him into midnight shadows so that Murphy could lean forward and graze his chapped lips across his brother's softness. He was desperate to know the heat of his brother's lips on his own, how it would feel to bite at Connor's lower lip, nibbling on its insides, as Connor moaned his name. He wanted to taking pleasure in their mouths tongues softly coming together. 

Murphy's soul was bared and exposed for the universe to see, and these feelings would take him to hell. Then again, how could love be evil and wrong? Murphy was confused. But when the Voice roared in the night, it did not threaten him with damnation for those thoughts, nor did it punish him for what he hoped for in his hidden heart. 

Instead, the Voice spoke of good and evil, purity and cleansing, and of each other. Like Jesus, they must sacrifice their own lives as average men, in order to be true and humble servants. The brothers' had their mission, seared into their souls by the Voice. 

But inside, Murph was terrified of how Connor would react if he truly knew what else Murph felt while they were drunk and touching and comparing tattoos ... trembling excited anxious flushed and so full of desire and heat and heart. 

He wanted to kiss Connor, run his tongue over Connor's saint until he could lick at his collarbone, running his hands under Connor's shirt, stroking his taunt stomach, rubbing his fingers across Connor's chest hair, pinching roughly at his rosy nipples ... 

At these times, Murph wanted Connor so hard and so strong and so rough he often had to leave for private moments alone where he would berate himself for his wants and his longing to have Connor at any cost. 

When they drank together, Murphy loved how much they touched - arms crossed, and entwined, walking with arms over shoulders and hips touching each other gently. When he had the rare change to masturbate without Connor nearby, Murphy would remember and replay the intimacy of walking drunk down the street together, sharing a moment unique to only them and no other human being. He would throw his arm over Connor's shoulder, and Connor would wrap his arm around Murph's waist, and away they would stagger, talking softly to each other memories of treasured special moments of twin-ness. 

When he masturbates, in his fantasy their walk takes them in a darken alley, where Murph presses Connor against a hard brick walk and roughly kisses him for long minutes, drunken happiness abounding between them both. Connor's mouth is demanding and Connor kisses him back, open mouth wet and hungry and wanting him too. Connor strains against him, his hard cock jutting out from the cloth and rubbing against Murphy's hip. He moans Murphy's name in the night air, husky and raw with desire. Connor opens his eyes and stares at Murphy, his darker blue eyes almost black with lust for his brother. Murph's hands rest lightly on his brother's waist, the warmth of Connor's flesh beating through his thin t-shirt. Connor's arms are wrapped loosely around his brother's neck, and he gently opens them, pressing his hands down on his brother's shoulders. Murphy understands his brother's silent request, and willing drops to his knees, hands fumbling at the fly of the blue jeans standing two inches from his nose. 

Maybe this is why Murph drinks so much. Only when he drinks does he allow himself to acknowledge the strength of his sexual desire for his brother. 

Murphy kept his eyes averted from Connor as they both pulled on their dark t-shirts over their blue jeans. He had seen his brother's body so many times since their birth, he could draw it in his dreams. He knows it all, from toes to hair, from mole to cock. Murphy smiled to himself, knowing the ongoing family joke about determining who is the elder. According to their ma's logic, Murphy should be the elder, having seen the two sets of family jewels. But judging by how the two brothers act with each other, Connor's seriousness and protectiveness gives him the air of seniority. 

Murphy wished he did not know how Connor's cock looks, when he is first awake, when needing to pee, when wanting to jack off. Knowing the reality of Connor's cock, its slight curve, and smooth beauty, hairs dark and tight against his balls, conjures up too many taboo thoughts when Murphy wants to masturbate. And Connor loves to walk around loosely dressed, especially in summer. Murphy has seen Connor in far too many naked situations over their crossed lives. Looking upon Connor's physical beauty only confuses Murphy, and he often feels his guilty glances may someday reveal his desires to Connor. He fears knowing what his eyes would give away if Connor were to ever look too closely.

Identically dressed in their dirty jeans and t-shirts, they finally sat back on their holding cell mattresses and eyed each other. Murph looked at Connor, sitting scratching gently at his neck, bandages tightly wrapped around his wrists. Smiling slightly, Murphy tipped his head sideways and smiled gently upwards at Connor as if to ask, "what's next?"  
____________________________________________________

And whenever Murphy watches him like that, head to the side with a lopsided small smile on his face, just watching him, Connor starts to fall apart. Because when Murphy has that smile, Connor would move the world for him - do anything, say anything, be anything - just to keep Murphy by his side. 

That is why he jumped from the roof; that is why he has these bandages. Murphy had looked at him, brief seconds, as he was grabbed and dragged from their shared room. And that look told Connor everything about Murphy, his fear, his faith, his love. With that one scared backwards glance from Murphy as he was being taken away, Connor came undone. 

And now they are together again in a jail cell, and Murphy is looking at him, smiling an intimate smile that is only for his brother.

Connor continues to look back at Murphy, watching him breathe slowly in and out. He could not look away, frozen in the moment, caught by the blueness of Murphy's gorgeous eyes. He wanted to stare and stare into the vast majestic oceans that were his brother's, but desperately needed to look away, the intimacy building too far, too fast. He felt like he couldn’t breathe. 

As usual, Connor felt a momentary pang of envy at his brother, for his stunning eyes, and his warmth and support and his gentle touches when Connor felt bad. Connor wanted more, more of what he was not sure, but he wanted more of his brother. 

Connor looked down, rubbing at his shoulders and neck in frustration, unsure of his desire. He finally decided to ask Murphy about the Voice instead, and softly spoke, "What was it like then, for you?"

Murphy kept watching him, and quietly replied a moment later, "Powerful. It was like the ocean had swept me up in a wave and was taking me out to see, far away. And when it was over, the ocean spit me onto land like I was reborn direct from the primal sea, and .... uum... ". Murphy started to trail off sheepishly and turned slightly away, embarrassed. 

"S'ok Murphy, I know, it was the same for me. Not the ocean stuff, I was flying up a mountain, but, yeah. The orgasm at the end. At least, that's the closest thing I can think to call it .... It felt so .. so insane with so much happening at once, this orchestra of this intense feeling, but yet it also so single and pure, like one crystal clear note of music playing on a a breeze." Connor kept his eyes on Murphy, who slowly turned back at his words.

Murpy replied, almost whispering to Connor, "the Voice, it was .. it makes you want to sing or dance or write great words or do something. And yet, it wants us to rid the world of evil through the shedding of blood. I'm not sure what this means." 

Connor looked at his brother seriously, reaching over across to the other mattress and surprising him by placing his hand over Murphy's heart.

"Murph, it told us what we must do, and it is simple to live with, as we are only to do as the Voice commands. Under the direction of our saviour we will be guided to evilness that must be cleansed, and we will not be led astray by the manufactured laws of the state. We have each other, and as our mum taught us, we protect each other. We live outside society, we are on a true mission of righteousness. The Voice makes you happy because you want to do what it wants you to do. Don't fight it, brother.". 

Murphy stared long into Connor's eyes, and Connor could not tear himself away, lost again in those intoxicating deep pools of liquidity. Murphy slowly reached up and covered his hand over his brother's, lightly caressing the back of Connor's hand with his nails and fingertips. Locked in Murphy's gaze, Connor was caught up in a flurry of emotions and did not know how to respond to his brother's stroking fingers. 

Connor's lips parted slightly, and he sighed with pleasure, slightly closing his eyes. They were still staring at one another, Murphy's hand warmly engulfing his own. 

Finally, Murphy picked up their hands and lowered his cheek and lightly slid the side of his face into Connor's hand, rubbing back and forth exactly like a cat pushing and rubbing for attention. Connor softly laughed at the sight and Murphy grinned in response. 

Connor suddenly wondered what Murphy would do next ... wondering if Murphy would dare kiss his hand so close to those sexy lips curved into a thoughtful smile. But Murph finally released his hand and sat back. 

Connor wondered at his feelings of disappointment, and shook his head. 

It was time to go and smote sinners.

**Author's Note:**

> I just play with them! They belong to Troy Duffy


End file.
